


Hit it (until it breaks)

by asuralucier



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Absolute Unit of a Best Friend Iwaizumi, Adulting is hard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, At this point that should probably be a tag, Character Study, Consummate Liar Oikawa Tooru, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Kimoikawa is a Magnificent Pun, M/M, Notice me senpai, PSA Do your PT save a doc's sanity, Pining, notice me kouhai, post high school au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/pseuds/asuralucier
Summary: Oikawa tells a lie or two or three, pays Kageyama a compliment to his insufferable face, and then things kind of get out of hand.(That post-high school AU where Oikawa’s unhealthy obsession with Kageyama continues well into his university years and he keeps sneaking in places to see his former junior play. Eventually, Kageyama finds out.)
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 36
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

“...Crap,” Oikawa muttered, “he found me out.” 

“What? You can’t just _say_ that when your only ‘disguise’ is a pair of glasses!” Here, Iwaizumi emphasized his point by giving a pair of aggressive air quotes. Iwazumi's approach to Oikawa could best be described as _take no prisoners_ , and yet no matter how infuriating the guy claimed Oikawa was, Iwaizumi still kept showing up.

Sure, Iwaizumi liked volleyball and tried to keep up with things at Aoba Johsai and elsewhere when he could find the time, but definitely not enough to deal with such a crappy guy all the time.

At least, that was what Iwaizumi kept saying. 

“I need my glasses,” said Oikawa, touching the bridge of his nose almost protectively. 

“That’s,” Iwaizumi started and then switched tack. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. Actually, that makes everything even worse! You’re not even wearing a disguise! Of course Kageyama would find you out!” 

“I’m standing right here,” said Kageyama, and both Oikawa and Iwaizumi whipped their heads around to stare at him before turning their attention back to each other. 

“Crap,” Oikawa said again, “hey, Iwa-chan--” 

Iwaizumi clapped Oikawa cleanly between his shoulder-blades, as if to say _snap out of it_ , but what came out of his mouth was worse. His intention was to cut Oikawa off at the pass and he still had great follow-through. “Anyway, I’ll see you. Let me know if you still want to do drinks Sunday.” Towards Kagayama, Iwaizumi merely nodded, the perfect blend of casual and cool. “Nice game, Kagayama. Congrats on making it again. The Nationals, I mean. Gotta run, I’m going to miss my bus otherwise.” 

“Oh,” said Kagayama. “Thanks.” 

Crap. 

“Um. Were you here for the whole game, Oikawa-san?” 

It was Kagayama who ended up speaking first, which was both a relief and something that still annoyed the hell out of Oikawa at the same time, even though he no longer felt the pangs of a competitive streak boiling near his gut. More like, it was a dull thud, no less painful. 

“Do I look like someone who’d come to just half a game, Tobio-chan, hm?” Oikawa asked, and for once, he wasn’t asking to be glib. 

“Well--no,” Kageyama admitted. Although he had nothing to be embarrassed about, his eyes shifted towards his shoes, and Oikawa let himself enjoy the moment, just a little. “I just thought, that you might have a...job, or something? University? You got in someplace in Tokyo, right?” 

Someplace in Tokyo. As if Kageyama couldn’t even be bothered to find out where, was what the uncharitable part of Oikawa wanted to think. But the practical part of him couldn’t deny the excited heat of the gymnasium still sticking to his skin, and how odd and out of place that felt since he wasn’t exactly in it anymore. Most likely, Kageyama had known it, and then forgot. 

“Waseda,” Oikawa confirmed with a slight shrug. “I’m just back for the weekend. I thought I had the wrong weekend, to tell you the truth.” 

Shit. He didn’t mean to say half of that out loud. 

“Wrong weekend?” 

Kageyama was not really a thinker outside of the intricacies of volleyball, and Oikawa was a good liar when he knew he needed to be. He hadn’t really planned to lie, but he didn’t think anyone really _meant_ to lie, it was just nice to have the option when you needed it in a pinch. 

Anyway.

“My great-aunt’s eightieth. My sister kept talking my ear off about it.” 

Suddenly, another familiar voice: “--Oikawa-san? Did you come to watch the match?” 

Somehow, Oikawa got the feeling that it was too much to ask for the gods to send Iwaizumi back from trying to catch a bus he hadn’t really needed to. They’d driven to the match, and just thinking about it made Oikawa feel abandoned all over again. 

“Kindaichi!” Oikawa caught the sight of his other former junior and reached out to grab Kindaichi by the scruff of his neck. In doing so, he noted that the third-year--now Seijoh’s captain--had possibly grown even taller since the last time Oikawa had seen him. Oikawa could try and convince himself that he was jealous, but his brain didn’t have space to keep track of two lies at once. “I was hoping to treat the winning team to Yakisoba.” 

Kindaichi and Kageyama said, in an unexpected chorus: “You were?” 

“Um.” Oikawa rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Yes, but never mind. Go ask Coach, okay? If he says yes, text me and I’ll meet you guys by the bus. Iwa-chan said he was going to come too, but when I suggested we split the bill he sort of...ran away.” 

“You got it!” Put food in a guy’s head, he didn’t ask any more questions. Some things never changed, and Oikawa was glad for it. 

Then, like he was watching a cut scene of some foreign movie that he barely had any memory of, Oikawa observed as Kageyama and Kindaichi exchanged nods that weren’t exactly friendly. But before things could devolve into a glaring contest, as they often did, Kindaichi said, “If you lose in Tokyo, Ou-sama, I will personally find you and kick your ass.” 

“In your dreams,” Kageyama retorted, but the nickname didn’t quite make him bristle as much like a rabid dog as he used to. Friendly rivalry with a bit of an edge, that was all it was, at least from where Oikawa was standing. 

Well.

“Iwaizumi-san didn’t exactly say that, did he?” 

“What are you going to do, run after Kindaichi and tell him?” Oikawa crossed his arms. Never had he been so glad to have that extra inch to use, to stare Kageyama down from the tip of his nose. If their positions had been reversed, Oikawa might have done exactly that, if mostly as a social experiment. 

“No.” 

But maybe Kageyama was still thinking about it. 

Oikawa Tooru was not a genius by any means; he knew that better than anyone else. Oikawa was not a prodigy, and while he hadn’t wanted to come to terms with what that meant before; at least, not before he’d done everything in his power to try to rectify this fact. More than his tenacity, Oikawa thought it was his iron will that saw him through most challenges.

But the thing about willpower too, was that at some point, even someone as determined as Oikawa had to admit defeat. 

Things were different now. It was over. 

The more Oikawa thought about it, the more he resented Kageyama’s steady, blue-eyed gaze, waiting for an opening. 

Oikawa was nothing if not an accommodating senior, the inclination honed more than anything by his experience as a setter. It was a habit. What distinguished bad habits from good habits was functionality. A bad habit meant that you were still stuck dealing with the remnants of the habit in question when you no longer needed it. “You’ve gotten even better since the last time I played you, Tobio-chan. Maybe this time Karasuno won’t get knocked out in the third round.”

“Shut up.” 

Which was probably not what either of them meant to say, but it was out now. Oikawa smiled, his best defense against Kageyama’s perpetual scowl, growing wider by the second. 

Oikawa thought, _still got it_. 

“Anyway, you heard Kindaichi, I wouldn’t want to get my ass kicked if I were you, Tobio-chan.” 

Not a moment too soon, Oikawa's cell went off in his pocket with a text from Kindaichi. Either way, he was saved. 

“Oops. It looks like Coach is waiting for me and I’ve held up the bus.” Oikawa turned to go, shutting his phone with a decisive clap. 

“You tell that Turnip that I’ll win in Tokyo! We all will!” Kageyama called after him. “You just watch me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This assumes anime knowledge only up until Season 3. I binged this week and I couldn't help myself. Look for updates every two weeks at the weekend.


	2. Chapter 2

“So, not only are you a bit of a crappy guy, you kind of…” Iwaizumi paused, and then Oikawa heard his friend draw in deep breath over the end of the phone. At last, Iwaizumi said, “Look, uh. Does Kageyama know you have a thing?”

“What thing?” Oikawa parried easily, as he nudged the door to his bedroom closed. Sometimes, the latch got a little stuck, so after he shut the door, he leaned hard against the wood again just in case. Actually, it was his makeshift bedroom in his sister’s garage conversion. The bedroom was of a decent size and it had a desk, a bookshelf, a bed. On top of the bookshelf was his plaque for Best Setter that he’d received during his third year at Kitagawa Daiichi. The plaque never left its pride of place and remained polished. Usually on Tuesdays. 

Save for the grief that the door sometimes gave him, it wasn’t a bad setup. Oikawa even had his own toilet with a sink. He put his phone down on the little recess by the window and turned on the faucet, splashing his face with cool water. 

“--Oi, Kimoikawa, you even listening to me?” 

“Kimoi--” Oikawa frowned into the towel. “That’s _cruel_ , Iwa-chan.”

“If I thought being nice worked on you, I’d be nice,” Iwaizumi snorted. After that, he changed the subject: “Did you really take the whole team out for Yakisoba and not invite me?” 

Treating the entirety of his former high school volleyball club to Yakisoba at the team’s favorite place in near the school had done much to lift Oikawa’s mood and, more importantly, provide him with an alibi he desperately needed. Not that Oikawa was going to admit that to anyone upon pain of death. 

At the same time, it’d left a gaping hole in his wallet and all right, maybe he did need a job. 

For now, Oikawa didn’t want to think about it. “It’s not my fault you ran away.” 

“I did _not_ run away, thank you. I just,” Iwaizumi let out a noisy breath. “You get especially creepy around him, is all. Ain’t nobody’s got time for that.” 

“I’m not _creepy_ ,” Oikawa said. “Did you call just to hassle me?” 

“No,” Iwaizumi sighed. “I just--” 

“...Tooru-niichan?” 

Oikawa turned at the sound of his name, almost relieved. Usually, he was happy enough to take Iwaizumi’s insults as they came, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been living with them for most of his life--but somehow, this felt different. Oikawa now got the feeling that he was getting reprimanded for real instead of just for kicks. He was, therefore, more than happy to let himself be distracted by Takeru, as his nephew hung outside the bathroom door with a shogi set tucked under his arm. 

Oikawa muted the call, just in case. With any luck, Iwaizumi would still be droning about the same thing, or maybe he’d grow bored and hang up, which was even better.

“What’s the matter, Take-chan?” 

Takeru was growing tall, Oikawa noted this when he knelt to stare at his nephew straight in the eye. Takeru had recently joined the volleyball club after waffling about it for a while, and sometimes asked Oikawa to toss to him in the backyard. 

“Will you play me at shogi? I asked Mom, but she said she was busy. Said I should ask you because you probably weren’t doing anything.” Takeru delivered this in a hopeful enough tone; however, Oikawa thought he still heard his sister’s disapproval stamped all over it. He was half tempted to say that he was busy and then go out for a run or something, but it was no good, running on a full stomach. 

“Sure,” Oikawa said, setting a hand in Takeru’s hair, messing with it out of habit. It helped, but not much. He stood up again. “Let me just get off the phone, okay?” 

“Okay.” Takeru nodded agreeably. He really was an agreeable kid, in the way Oikawa himself never was. “Who are you on the phone with, Tooru-niichan?” 

“Oh. Nobody.” Oikawa emphasized with a shrug. 

Takeru’s agreeable smile slipped away and replaced itself with a frown. “Are you talking to yourself on the phone?” 

“I, uh,” Oikawa started, “All right, it’s Iwa-chan. But he’s being mean to me.” 

“Will you tell Iwa-niichan I say hi?” 

Just like that, the tension in the room dispelled itself. Oikawa couldn’t even remember what he was nervous about. He had to remind himself that Takeru was only eight (nearly nine), as his nephew had started insisting on, and things would fly over his head, at least for now. 

Oikawa turned away from Takeru to pick up his phone. He said, “Hey, Iwa-chan. Take-chan wanted to--” he broke off, when he realized that he was speaking to well, nobody. 

“Do you want to know something funny about shogi, Tooru-niichan?” 

“Hm?” Oikawa sat crossed-legged on the floor of his bedroom, opposite Takeru with the board between them. Every once in a while, he would glance at his phone in the vain hope that Iwaizumi would ring him back and apologize for being a dick. So far, no dice. But probably because Iwaizumi assumed that they’d keep on being friends. 

And they would be. That was never in question. 

“I said,” Takeru started again, this time, raising his voice ever so slightly, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it as he pushed his lance forward to knock off one of Oikawa’s pawns. In retrospect, Oikawa’s last move hadn’t been a very good one. Too late now. “Do you want to know something funny about shogi?” 

Oikawa said hurriedly, “Of course, Take-chan. Tell me something funny about shogi.” He could play shogi reasonably well most times, just not today. Oikawa could feel eyes burning into the back of his head, as if he was being watched. Maybe he was. Takeru stared straight at him, and there was something unnerving about his nephew’s gaze. Almost like it was straight out of a horror movie or something.

Oikawa hated horror movies. 

“I was just thinking,” said Takeru, reaching to pick up his king, rolling the piece thoughtfully around in his hand. “You had a name in high school right? When you were on the volleyball team? They called you the King, right?” With that, Takeru cast a meaningful look towards Oikawa’s bookshelf, where his setter’s award sat in its pride of place. 

“The Great King, actually.” Oikawa couldn’t help himself. “It’s even better than a king. The King is someone else’s nickname.” 

“Who?” 

“Um.” Oikawa hastily shoved his bishop forward two paces. “Someone I used to know. I mean, I still know him. But we don’t really...talk.” 

“You should tell him his nickname is silly,” Takeru said, as he plonked down his king again in its rightful space, frowning deeply at the board. “I mean, in shogi, the king only moves one space at a time, do you know what I mean, Tooru-niichan? It’s practically useless. It can hardly move anywhere.” 

"Shogi isn't like volleyball, Takeru. It's different," said Oikawa, for once using Takeru's real name. He did it not so often, and it was apparently jarring enough that Takeru took his attention off the board to look up at him again. 

Takeru made a face. "I know it is, Tooru-niichan, it's why I said it was _silly_."


	3. Chapter 3

Back when Oikawa was at Kitagawa Daiichi and later, when he was at Seijoh, both schools took regular trips to the ruins of Aoba Castle and its on-site museum. Even now, Oikawa could walk through the very pathways he’d been herded down a dozen times by a harried teacher, and recite to himself the years when Aoba-jo had been destroyed by earthquakes and fires. 

The most notable dates of the castle’s natural destruction remained between 1616 and 1710, although earthquakes kept happening from 1710 and 1868, no extensive damage was recorded during that period. Then Aoba-jo was bombed along the rest of Sendai in 1945 and predictably, the castle never recovered after that. 

Today, Aoba Castle was a historical relic, its ruins had protected status as a Monument, and the unemployed or those who could produce a valid student ID could visit for 500 yen. 

Conveniently, Oikawa was at least one of those things, usually. 

“Oikawa-san?” 

If Seijoh took trips here, it’d make sense that other schools in the area did the same. But that was hardly something Oikawa thought about. Now though, it suddenly seemed like the most obvious thing, and he should have known that it’d be a possibility. 

But now...

Kageyama Tobio stood not six feet away from him in a Karasuno Municipal High polo, a neutral, if somewhat curious expression on his face. A little hurriedly, Oikawa touched a hand to the bridge of his own nose, only to realize that he didn’t have his glasses on. He really only needed them for driving and reading and--despite what Iwaizumi thought, was a pretty good disguise most of the time. At least it made people look twice. 

“Hey, Tobio...chan.”

“What are you um, doing here?” 

Although Kageyama didn’t say it out loud, the implication was clear: _What are you doing here_ again? As far as Kageyama knew, Oikawa was supposed to be in Tokyo studying at university. It wasn’t even (quite) a weekend (yet) and he couldn’t very well use the excuse of his great-aunt turning eighty. Then again, Oikawa could think of off the top of his head, some other elderly relatives with birthdays coming up. He was always good at dates and that sort of thing. 

“I,” Oikawa started and stopped. After a moment, he started over again, with a shake of his head. “I didn’t have classes today and my sister’s husband’s away. I told her I’d come back and do the yard. Maybe show my nephew how to use the lawnmower to save myself the trouble for next time, you know?” 

“Oh.” 

Oikawa was eager to move on. He gestured towards Kageyama and tried to scan the surrounding area for similar polos or for uniforms from Karasuno. Given that it was black all over, he was expecting the jet black shadows to be easy to pick out. As it were, Oikawa saw nothing. “School trip?” 

“It’s just the senior class.” Kageyama gestured, nodding in a vague direction that really wasn’t anywhere. “I think everyone’s gone back to the bus.” 

“But not you?” 

Kageyama’s eyes slid away from him. “I talked to Haneda-sensei about making my own way back. Several other people are doing it too...I thought I’d like, get something to eat or whatever. Buses run all the time...so.” 

Oikawa said, once again without thinking about it. As far as he was concerned, the worst was over since Kageyama didn’t seem interested in interrogating him any further, “How do you feel about onigiri? There’s a stall in the Asaichi Market. It’s not too bad.” 

“Oh,” Kageyama said again, and there was clear surprise in his voice, but then it was Oikawa’s turn to be surprised when Kageyama actually appeared to think about Oikawa’s question seriously. As if he was deliberately not taking the out Oikawa had painstakingly put in front of him like a perfect toss.

Finally, Kageyama gave a little shrug and the straight strict line of his mouth curved into the slightest hint of a smile. Come to think of it, Oikawa couldn’t really remember the last time he’d seen Kageyama smile. 

“I guess I don’t hate onigiri.”

Oikawa usually liked wandering Asaichi Market; there were always a variety of stalls full of interesting foods to try. Oikawa mostly came here for that one bakery’s milk bread, but there were other things too. Depending on the season, there were vendors at the market offering everything from sweet ice to warm mochi to okonomiyaki. Oikawa asked Kageyama if he’d ever been and Kageyama said he hadn’t. 

“I guess Karasuno’s a bit more out of the way?” 

Kageyama said, “Yeah, something like that.” 

It was that slightly awkward time between lunch and dinner, which meant they didn’t have to wait long to be served. It was only when he was ordering and watching one of the people wrap his onigiri in brightly colored paper that Oikawa realized he wasn’t hungry. 

“Is it weird being back here, Oikawa-san?” Kageyama asked, as he unwrapped his own onigiri from its paper, and although his expression was cautious, it was curious enough. He probably had even less of an idea of what they were doing here together than Oikawa did.

And that was something. Oikawa certainly didn’t head out to Aoba-jo today expecting to run into Kageyama Tobio, but he was always good at playing things by ear. However, he was glad that his mouth was full. It bought him a minute that he definitely needed. After Oikawa swallowed, he said, still biding for time, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, it’s Tokyo right? Must be different, lots to do?” 

“I didn’t go to Tokyo because I hated it here,” Oikawa told him, and it was almost the truth. “Is that what you’re planning on doing? Running as far as you possibly can away from Miyagi because you hate it--” 

“I’m going to go where the best volleyball is,” Kageyama answered, before Oikawa could even finish the question. He now looked at Oikawa with an expression that said he should have known. “Waseda’s volleyball is pretty good, right?” 

“Yeah.” Oikawa nodded. “Pretty good. We have this middle blocker, Sven. He’s like almost two meters tall. My name for him is Kyojin-chan. His Japanese is pretty bad, but I think he gets it now--it’s even catching. We can’t say ‘Sven’ to save our lives.” 

“Right.”

“Don’t give me that look, Tobio-chan. Go on, you try. Say Sven.” 

“S--” Kageyama actually put down the onigiri he was holding and his face scrunched up in a feat of concentration. “S...I’m trying again. S--ven?” His frown deepened and he added, “I’m not too good at English.” 

Oikawa raised an eyebrow. “Sven’s not English, or you know, American.” Maybe that was what Kageyama meant. Oikawa wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was what a good senpai would do.

Lying came naturally to Oikawa Tooru, it was getting to the point where he got daily practice. And as with everything that he practiced, he got better at it. Besides, there was really a guy who was nearly two meters tall who used to play volleyball at Waseda. Oikawa didn’t exactly make him up or anything. For all Oikawa knew, Sven was probably playing volleyball. 

“He isn’t?” 

“He _speaks_ English,” Oikawa said, “But he’s not...oh, I never remember. Sven used to tell people he lives where Santa Claus lives.” 

“The North Pole?” Kageyama tried. “I’m not great at geography either.” 

Oikawa had the last bite of his onigiri and busied his hands by folding the paper up into a small neat square. Somehow, the Kageyama in his head would never really admit it when he was bad at something. It was the whole reason why he became The King at Kitagawa Daiichi. He thought he knew better. He thought he was fucking good at everything and that people only needed to keep up. 

Now, here he was, admitting that he wasn’t very good at English or geography. Still, maybe those admissions didn't cost Kageyama anything because geography and English weren’t volleyball. 

“I said I didn’t remember. Like, Sweden or something. Sven keeps complaining that Japan’s too hot.” Oikawa saw that Kageyama was almost done with his onigiri too. Once he’d given Kageyama enough time to swallow, Oikawa nodded towards him again.

“If you want, I can give you a ride home.” 

“Really?” Kageyama blinked. “I, okay. That’s...if you’re sure. Thanks, Oikawa-san.” 

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” Oikawa said as he stood. That was one other good thing about being able to make things up as he went along. Even if he said something stupid that he didn’t quite mean, like he definitely didn’t mean to offer Kageyama a ride home, things had a way of working themselves out. 

Oikawa was sure of it.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, Oikawa-san? Can I ask you a question?” Kageyama looked oddly relaxed, resting his cheek against the flat of his palm. The fact that the traffic seemed not to have moved an inch hardly seemed to bother him. 

A question Oikawa was asking himself just about now, was why he thought giving Kageyama a ride home was a great idea. Sure, Oikawa had been on enough buses this time at the weekend to know that schedules got a bit weird, and sometimes buses got stuck in traffic for a very long time. And unlike what Iwaizumi liked to think about him, Oikawa did try his best to be...something. “Good” was probably over-selling it, but maybe Oikawa could try selling Iwaizumi on “not so crappy.” 

Not that Oikawa owed it to Iwaizumi to explain anything. 

It was easy to dislike Kageyama while he was on the court. It was easy for Oikawa to dislike anyone in the name of rivalry, but off the court when that sort of relationship wasn’t exactly prescribed ahead of time, it was--weird. Of course, it’d been some time since Oikawa had stood opposite from Kageyama on the court, but from the stands, it was almost the same. After all, Oikawa still knew who he was rooting for while sitting in the audience. 

But this? This was weird. Oikawa turned his attention away from the road ahead of him and gave Kageyama a sidelong glance. “Yeah.” 

“Do you always stay with your sister when you’re back in Miyagi? You were staying with her that other weekend too, right?”

It wasn’t a question Oikawa had been expecting, and so the surprise that showed on his face was genuine. To tell the truth (only in his own head), it felt a little unnatural, to have the expression pulling at his muscles of their own volition, like Oikawa had little control over it. “I…” First, he had to shake the paranoid thought that Kageyama somehow knew what he was up to, and then Oikawa felt better. 

Oikawa said, clearing his throat, “Most of the time. I do go see my parents once in a while. You know how it goes, it’s hard to catch them at home.” 

“Are they out a lot?” 

The streetlight turned green and whatever hope Oikawa had of cutting off this conversation because he was driving was instantly dashed. The car crawled forward a precarious inch and stalled again. 

“They,” Oikawa started and cut himself off. He shut his eyes, as if the memory was freshly painful. When he opened his mouth to speak again, he was interrupted by the sharp wail of sirens. 

On the one hand, Oikawa thought about how lucky he was when an ambulance drove past them in the opposite lane, on the other hand...

“Looks like we’re going to be here a while,” Kageyama said, reaching for his phone. “I need to text my sister. She’s probably worried.” 

“Sure.” Oikawa nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kageyama tap out a message meticulously on his phone. While a text message couldn’t be anywhere near the importance of match point in say, a fifth set, Kageyama seemed to approach this task with the same level of concentration. 

It was the same intensity that had first drawn Oikawa to him as a first-year at Kitagawa Daiichi. It was also the same reason Oikawa decided to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he spoke without really thinking. “It’s funny that you’d text your sister.” 

“Why?” Kageyama finished the text and stuck his phone back into his pocket. “I live with her. My parents live abroad.” 

“--Oh.” 

Kageyama was looking at him again, an air of heated challenge gathering up around him, like he was ready to take on anything, including one of Oikawa’s pin-point precision power serves. 

“I meant it’s funny,” Oikawa corrected himself, running a hand through his hair, “because yeah, I stay with my sister too. She locks me up in the garage until she needs me for free babysitting.” 

“That’s...terrible?” 

“Not really,” Oikawa said, “I like my nephew. Swell kid, didn’t you meet him once?” 

“I don’t really remember.” 

Oikawa made a noise in his throat. “Sure you don’t. Anyway, it looks like we’re about to start moving again. Make sure you tell your sister not to worry.” 

“Thanks for bringing Tobio home,” said Kageyama Miwa, who was already outside of her front door, standing at the gates when Oikawa pulled up in front of the address Kageyama had given him. 

Oikawa didn’t have the best memory for faces, but he thought he remembered her from way back when, or maybe she just unmistakably looked like Kageyama’s sister, especially with her short hair and bangs. He smiled, and waved her away. “I try to do right by my _kouhai_. It’s no trouble. It’s not like he talked my ear off, or anything.” 

“I was watching the incident on the local news,” Miwa told him as Kageyama moved to get out of the car. “That accident looked awful. I’m just glad you weren’t on that bus, Tobio.”

“I wasn’t on that bus, Miwa-san,” said Kageyama, seemingly pleased and slightly embarrassed by his sister’s concern at the same time. “Oikawa-san offered me a ride home.” 

“ _Oh_.” A look of recognition came into Miwa’s eyes and she stepped closer and leaned forward, as if to put Oikawa under more scrutiny. Then she leaned back again and snapped her fingers with a smart click. “I do remember you! You’re that Oikawa-san that Tobio always talks about. The one with the weird serve. And you play setter too, right?” 

“Uh.” Oikawa looked down at his hands, as if he was suddenly keen to inspect his hands for any weirdness. Come to think of it, his hands were weird. It’d been some time since he’d worn any tape on them from practicing too much; moreover, Oikawa was terrified, that Kageyama or his sister would toss him a ball from nowhere and ask him to demonstrate his weird serve. 

He looked towards Kageyama for help, only a little bit relieved to find that the guy was also looking as mortified as Oikawa felt. Kageyama’s eyes slid away from Oikawa’s to a spot near his shoes. 

“Did you really say my serve was weird? I’m almost offended, Tob--” hastily, Oikawa corrected himself, “Kageyama-kun.” 

“That wasn’t what I _said_ ,” Kageyama mumbled, a bright spot of red appearing at the tips of his ears. “And I did not talk about him all the time, Miwa-san. Don’t do that.” 

Miwa said, “Sure you didn’t, Tobio.” 

“Anyway.” Kageyama was still not looking at him. “What I said was that you had this weirdly powerful serve.” 

Oikawa fought the urge to laugh, but the sound only bubbled near the surface of his throat because he was relieved. “Weirdly powerful serve. I’ll take that. --Anyway, I should be getting home. Maybe I’ll see you around, Kageyama-kun.” 

Kageyama and his sister were still standing at their gate when Oikawa rounded a corner. 

“...Tooru? Come into the kitchen, please, I’d like to talk to you.” 

Oikawa froze in the middle of toeing off his shoes, like he’d been caught out. He knew that tone of voice all too well: Oikawa Namie often used it at work when she was firing someone. She even used it over the phone once, and sometimes, with Takeru, too. Once, after that had happened, Takeru had come and hid in Oikawa’s futon, under his covers and refused to come out. 

Anyway, Oikawa was way past the age where imposing a curfew was sensible, and if Namie wanted to have words with him about staying out late, he could always point her towards the incident with the bus near Aoba-jo. 

He stepped into the kitchen to find Namie and the dining table covered with important looking papers. 

“There was a bus crash or something near the castle,” said Oikawa, heading her off. “Nothing happened to me, I’m fine. Sorry I’m late.” 

Finally, Namie glanced up at him. She gave him a long look, scanning him from head to toe, as if to make sure he wasn’t lying. After a minute or two, she seemed satisfied that he wasn’t, and gestured to the chair opposite from where she was sitting. “I’m glad you’re all right, Tooru. But I still have to talk to you. Please sit down.” 

Oikawa sat. 

“Akishima-sensei called from the hospital.” 

Oikawa was about to say, “Who?” but decided Namie didn’t look like she’d appreciate the joke. Instead, he said, “Oh.” 

“He says you haven’t been keeping in touch,” Namie said. Very clearly, _haven’t been keeping in touch_ was meant to be a polite translation for _haven’t been keeping up with your physical therapy._ Namie did that all the time; she liked it when people figured stuff out on their own, and Oikawa preferred lying. Sometimes, it was hard to tell that he and Namie were related. 

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Oikawa said. “I promise. I feel fine anyway, I’m mostly driving places when I need to go somewhere and I haven’t been putting myself through any non-essential, strenuous exercise.” 

Namie didn’t look too impressed. But maybe there was something in her expression now that softened a little. “Tooru, I let you stay with us because obviously you needed time, but you’re not helping yourself. There’s also a letter for you from Waseda. I had Takeru put it in your room.” 

“I can’t go back to Waseda,” Oikawa said. “I know you think it’s stupid, but I.” 

“Because it is stupid.” Namie’s eyes turned hard again, and she held up a hand to stop him from talking. “And before you take me the wrong way, no, I’m not saying that volleyball is stupid. You know I’m not saying that.” 

“Namie-chan, listen.” 

“ _Neesan,_ ” Namie corrected, “and also, you should stop ducking Mom’s calls. I’m running out of excuses. Look, if you got a job or something. I’m not angry with you, I’m…” 

“Disappointed?” Oikawa supplied with a sideways smile. “Me too, most of the time. Can I go now?” 

Namie sighed, “Yes, that. I’m glad we have something in common. Will you go see Takeru before you disappear into the garage? He’s been waiting for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've plotted this out again and it's kind of become a slow burn. I hope no one minds, and that you all enjoy! 
> 
> I don't read the manga, but found [this](https://audriel89.tumblr.com/post/615215508467449856/haikyuu-chapter-387) post very helpful in fleshing out Kageyama's background.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness. Life blew up this week! I hope you enjoy :).

Oikawa went down the hall to Takeru’s bedroom. The door was left slightly open, and although Takeru probably knew he was standing outside, his nephew didn’t call out to him or anything. 

Finally, Oikawa sighed and knocked on the door. When there was still no answer, Oikawa let himself in, discovering a Takeru-shaped lump underneath his covers. 

Oikawa poked the lump but not too hard, and then he stepped away. “You know, if you keep playing video games like that, you’ll hurt your eyes, Take-chan.” 

“You don’t get to tell me that,” said Takeru. But the reproach seemed to do its job, and Takeru’s head peeked out. “Where were you, Tooru-niichan? You said we would hang out. You also said to Mom that you’d mow the lawn.”

“I did say that, yes.” 

“But then you didn’t,” Takeru pressed on before Oikawa could open his mouth to protest. It was difficult to tell whether Takeru had rehearsed all this beforehand with his mother, or it was just coming out naturally without Takeru thinking about it too much. Oikawa had always admired that about the kid. He admired it all the more for its relation to volleyball and now, he was simply jealous. The feeling simmered patiently at the back of his head; if Oikawa thought about it any more closely, he might have admitted to himself that it’d been there for a long time. He was just noticing it now. 

“I was stuck in traffic near Aoba-jo.” Oikawa busied himself with stretching and, more pointedly, not looking at Takeru. “There was an accident with a bus. I don’t think anyone died, but a few people were hurt.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa thought he saw Takeru thinking about this. “So that means they’ll get better, right?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Takeru rolled his eyes. “You’re being silly again, Tooru-niichan. If people get hurt, then they’ll get better. If they do what the doctor says.” 

Oikawa sighed, “Okay, _now_ I know Namie-chan told you to say that.” 

“Did not.” 

“Did too.” 

“Did. Not,” Takeru said, emphasizing each word and then sticking out his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, moving to burrow back under the covers again, but this time, Oikawa was quicker. He moved to pick up the heavy quilt before Takeru had time to get comfortable. “--Hey!” 

“What?” 

“Give my covers back.” 

“I will if you tell me the truth,” said Oikawa, stretching just so to keep the covers out of Takeru’s reach. “Lying’s bad for you. You shouldn’t lie, Take-chan, especially if you want to grow up.” 

“ _You_ lie all the time. Mom thought you were going to the doctor’s.” Finally, Takeru gave up and crossed his arms, slumping back down on his bed. “And doing your whatsit exercises. And you haven’t. You’re not going to get better that way.” 

“I,” Oikawa started and cut himself off. “Okay, you got me. Maybe I’m not very good at growing up either. I didn’t mean to lie to your mother. Here, covers back.” He dropped the covers unceremoniously on top of Takeru’s head and the kid didn’t even protest. Takeru merely wormed around to make himself comfortable again before peeking his head out. Then he made a face. 

“You stink at growing up.” 

“I do. I really need you to keep an eye on me.” Suddenly, Oikawa was tired. It was the sort of exhaustion that sank in right when it really mattered at match point during the fifth set. Except this time, Oikawa didn’t quite have the adrenaline to pull himself back together. “...Want to have a sleepover? Since I’m not very good at growing up.” 

“Only if you promise to go to the doctor’s. And you buy me ice cream afterwards. And, and. Mom said you should get a job.” 

“I’ll do two of those things.” Oikawa reached towards Takeru, fully intending to flick him on the nose. Then he decided against it. “Don’t push your luck with me, all right?” 

Oikawa was glad when his phone rang. It gave Takeru a chance to stop parroting his mother and get back to his video game. He checked the screen, only to find that he didn’t recognize the number. After a moment, Oikawa decided to pick up anyway. “Hello?” 

“Oikawa-san?” 

The voice on the other end sounded a lot like Kageyama, but for the life of him Oikawa couldn’t think of any reason why Kageyama would be ringing him at night. Especially since they couldn’t seem to carry on a conversation earlier on in the day. “Tobio-chan. How did you get my number?” 

“I hassled Turnip for it,” said Kageyama. “Is that okay?” 

“I mean it’s, okay. But I’m confused.” Oikawa told the truth, and as he said it, he felt a weird weight settle at the back of his skull, as if to remind him that this wasn’t a thing that he did too often. “Is everything okay?” 

“I think I left something in your car. Could you check?” 

Oikawa had a pretty good memory. He memorized things quickly, everything from different volleyball plays to quadratic equations. This ticked Iwaizumi off to no end and the guy wouldn’t let up about it. To that end, he had a pretty good mental picture of the things Kageyama had been wearing and carrying from earlier. “I could check, yeah. But I don’t think you left anything. Give me a second.” 

His moving towards the door seemed to catch Takeru’s attention, as he stuck his head out again. “Where are you going, Tooru-niichan?” 

“Out to the car,” said Oikawa, suddenly in a hurry to leave. “Only for a minute. I’ll be right back, Take-chan.” 

When Oikawa got out into the hallway, he was doubly glad to see that Namie had finished whatever she was pretending to do in the kitchen. Not that Oikawa really thought his sister was pretending, just--

“Oikawa-san?” 

“Still here, hang on one second. I’m almost out the front door.” 

“I wasn’t rushing you,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “Just wanted to know who that was.” 

“Just my nephew,” Oikawa made his way over to his car parked on the curb. 

“Stuck on babysitting duty?” 

Oikawa was only a little bit gratified (and worried) that of all the things that he and Kageyama had talked about today, that the fact that Oikawa was roped into free babysitting duty was the thing that stuck. “Don’t let Take-chan hear you say that. Right, I’m at my car. What am I looking for?” 

“Well.” Kageyama seemed to hesitate. “It must have fallen out of my pocket.” 

Oikawa settled himself into the driver’s seat and switched on the overhead light. At a cursory glance, he couldn’t see anything that could have fallen out of Kageyama’s pocket on the passenger’s side. “As far as I know, I’m looking for an old stick of gum or something.” 

“I don’t chew gum, Oikawa-san.” 

“You might as well just tell me, Tobio-chan.” Oikawa said, “If you carry it around with you, and you think it’s important enough to call me to get it back? It can’t be that embarrassing.” Then he had a thought. “Unless it’s a love letter! Do you carry a love letter from a special someone in your pocket?” 

Oikawa felt a no small amount of satisfaction as he could practically hear Kageyama blushing over the phone. “No! Who carries a love letter in their pocket anyway?”

“I did,” Oikawa said, “Once or twice. Come on, just tell me.” 

“It’s--” Kageyama appeared to be gathering up courage as he took a deep breath. “It’s Kazuyo-san’s lighter. My grandfather’s lighter. A friend gave it to him and he gave it to me for good luck. I always carry it.” 

Oikawa said, “Oh.” Somehow, he’d been expecting something else, and Kageyama calling him over his grandfather’s lighter left his guts strangely twisted, like he’d been forced to digest undercooked rice. “I can have a look.” 

“It’s shaped like an elephant.” 

Oikawa nodded. “Okay. I’m going to put the phone down. But I’m still here, all right?” 

Strictly speaking, Oikawa didn’t have to, but as he placed his phone face up on the dashboard, he felt better already. After a few seconds of groping along the matting under the passenger’s seat, his fingers brushed by something metallic and cool. 

Oikawa straightened up again and stared at the heavy lighter in his palm. It looked old, but still in good condition, as though Kageyama still went out of his way to take care of it. The lighter was indeed shaped like an elephant, with the animal’s trunk proudly pointed upwards and it was standing up on its hind legs, in a typical gesture of good luck. 

“Think I found it.” 

Kageyama let out a long exhale. “I was worried I lost it. Thanks, Oikawa-san.” 

Oikawa said, “At least you know where it is, now. Maybe I can drop it off by Karasuno on Monday?” 

Kageyama asked, “But aren’t you going back to Tokyo?” 

“I.” Oikawa bit down on the back of his tongue. “Not until the evening. I can in the afternoon.” 

“Okay.” Kageyama sounded surprised, but agreeable enough. “Coach’s organized another practice game for us with his Neighborhood Association friends. They’re always missing a setter.” 

“Oh.” Oikawa’s tongue suddenly grew thicker and thicker in his mouth. He barely managed to swallow. “I probably won’t have time.” 

“Of course,” said Kageyama, “I just. You know what I was thinking earlier, Oikawa-san?” 

“What were you thinking?” Oikawa stared at the smiling elephant in his hand and squeezed it so hard until his knuckles turned white. 

“I was thinking that it was really lucky that I wasn’t on that bus. That you came along and offered me a ride. I don’t know what I’d do if I broke my arm or hurt my leg or…” Kageyama trailed off. “Never mind. I’ll see you Monday?” 

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed. “See you Monday.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblig. I am not a medical doctor nor do I live in Japan, so if you detect any real wonkiness, please let me know. But jumper's knee is a real thing! 
> 
> Thanks for following along and reading :).

“Why do I feel I feel like I’m under arrest?” Oikawa complained to nobody in particular. At least he tried to make it seem that way. He knew deep down that what was happening right now was mostly his own doing, but given the chance, Oikawa would probably do it all over again. 

“Because if the police did arrests for stupidity, you’d be locked up forever and I’d finally be rid of you?” Iwaizumi muttered, staring straight ahead at the road. Still, even as Iwaizumi was determined to put his blinders on for the drive, Oikawa could still feel his friend’s annoyance radiating all over the car. 

Finally, Iwaizumi turned to look at Takeru, who was tucked securely in the backseat, his eyes glued to the screen of his no doubt engrossing video game. Iwaizumi said, “Yeah...I’m going to leave this one to you, kid.” 

Takeru returned, without looking up from his screen even for a second: “If Tooru-niisan drove, he could have run away from the hospital. I didn’t want to give you an excuse. Mom could really get mad at me.” 

Oikawa opened his mouth, intent on responding with something sensible. He started with: “You know, you _are_ going to go blind if you keep gluing yourself to that game, Take-chan.” 

It didn’t seem to have any effect, earning only a snort from Iwaizumi as he followed a right turn into the hospital parking lot. “Like you’re one to talk.” 

At a glance, the place looked nearly full up, and Oikawa found himself hoping against hope that they wouldn’t find a spot. It would serve both Takeru and Iwaizumi right. 

A car just a bit ahead of them looked like it was gearing up to free up a spot. Oikawa purposely kept his mouth shut, hoping no one would notice. 

Takeru said, “Iwa-niichan, it looks like someone’s leaving.” 

“Yeah, I see that.” 

So much for that. Oikawa stared miserably down at his knees, the most cursed part of himself. Usually, it was easy enough not to think about, but now, the dull ache that bounded around his tendons was difficult to ignore. Good thing though, OIkawa was used to it, playing through the pain, just gritting through it no matter how bad it got.

It wasn’t until Iwaizumi put the car into park that Oikawa realized he was one step closer to where he didn’t want to be. He unbuckled his seatbelt, dragging it out until he couldn’t ignore Iwaizumi glaring at him again. 

“Cut the crap, Osoikawa.” 

‘Gee, it’s like neither of you trust me.”

In the end, Oikawa convinced his escort to stay in the car and headed in alone. There wasn’t much of a place to hide, now that they were already at the hospital. He’d arrived a few minutes early for his appointment, although the young lady at reception apologized when he signed in, Akishima-sensei was running late. 

Oikawa disliked hospitals. He disliked the way they smelled, the way they looked, and the way that people came here to die. 

Without thinking, Oikawa took out Kageyama Kazuyo’s lighter and held it in his hands. It’d been weird, when he first learned about the lighter’s existence, to think that Kageyama carried this object around with him wherever he went. Given his junior’s absentmindness outside of everything that wasn’t volleyball, Oikawa had to wonder at the fact that Kageyama hadn’t managed to set himself on fire. 

Lighters were dangerous, after all. 

“Oikawa-kun?” 

Oikawa came out of it, and nodded at the receptionist again as she gestured him towards Akishima-sensei’s office. 

Akishima-sensei was a man in his early sixties or late fifties, wearing a pristine white doctor’s coat and on his sixth cup of coffee. He apologized for this, and for being late, and then patted himself near his heart. “Any minute now, my heart’s going to give out on me.” 

Oikawa said, “I don’t know CPR.” 

“Of course you don’t, sit.” 

Oikawa sat. One hand gripped Kageyama Kazuyo’s lighter, and the other tried to relax. He didn’t think he was anywhere near successful, but Akishima-sensei wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was frowning at his computer, at a file which undoubtedly listed all of Oikawa’s sins, starting with--

“Has it really been six weeks since I’ve seen you?” 

Oikawa shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Maybe it was his imagination, or maybe it wasn’t, but the chair felt crooked, somehow. Akishima-sensei had opened the conversation in an earnest tone, as if it might have been his own fault that Oikawa had left it so long. Oikawa was tempted to lie, and then didn’t, at the last minute. 

“...Yeah, I. Got sort of busy.” 

“Busy?” 

“Not playing volleyball,” Oikawa assured him quickly. “I do a lot of dumb things, but not that. I do other things.” 

“I see.” Akishima-sensei nodded. He turned to note something on his computer, something that might or might not have been Oikawa Tooru’s assessment of his own intellectual capacity. Then he turned back to Oikawa again. “I’m going to guess you’ve been too busy doing these other things to follow the exercise regimen I’ve given you.”

Oikawa said, “Well.” 

Akishima-sensei sighed, “Oikawa-kun, do you know the other name for patellar tendinitis?” When Oikawa didn’t respond, the doctor continued. “I don’t blame you, six weeks is a long time to keep track of these things. It’s sometimes called jumper’s knee. And believe it or not, it’s a common sports injury, especially in basketball, volleyball. The clue is in the name, and people do recover from it. It doesn’t have to be career ending. It’s not even as if you’ve broken your leg.” 

There was something piteous and kind in the doctor’s tone, something that Oikawa couldn’t stand hearing. He almost wanted to put his hands over his ears.

But then, Kageyama Kazuyo’s lighter dropped to the floor with a loud clatter.

Oikawa and Akishima-sensei both looked at it. Oikawa hastily picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket. 

Finally, Akishima-sensei said, “Have you taken up smoking, Oikawa-kun? Sometimes people do, to deal with a new stress in their lives that they find hard to deal with. But--”

“You have the wrong idea.” Oikawa interrupted him before he could finish. “It belongs to a friend, he just um, left it in my car. I’ll be returning it to him later today, as a matter of fact.” 

“Oh, I’m glad to hear that.” More than that, Akishima-sensei sounded properly relieved. “I’m not so happy about you not keeping up with your exercises, Oikawa-san. You’re denying yourself the opportunity to heal. It’s important that you work towards recovery. But I suppose I’d worry about you more if you cut yourself off from your friends.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Volleyball is a very social sport from what I understand, isn’t it? You told me you played on a university team?” 

Oikawa nodded. “I play setter for Waseda.”

“And now you don’t play at all. But I’m glad that hasn’t stopped you from socializing with your friends, that you feel you can be honest with them.” 

Oh, shit. 

But Oikawa was glad that the doctor moved on, so that he didn’t have to correct Akishima-sensei’s assumptions. It wasn’t as if Oikawa lied to all of his friends. Most of Aoba Johsai’s third years in Oikawa’s cohort, including Iwaizumi, didn’t play volleyball regularly anymore. Everybody moved on past Oikawa Tohru not playing volleyball, except Oikawa himself. “Can we agree to start over, Oikawa-kun? I want to see you in two weeks. And I want you to start doing the exercises we spoke about. Do we need to speak about them again?” 

Besides, it wasn’t as if Oikawa and Kageyama were even friends. A quandary for another time. He shook his head. “I remember them, Akishima-sensei.” 

“Good.” Akishima-sensei smiled. “Oh, one more thing. Are you still living with your sister?” 

“Yes. But I’m thinking about moving back to Tokyo. Waseda sent me a letter.” Oikawa stood. He couldn’t quite tell if he was telling the truth or not. Through sheer determination and a hell of a lot of practice, Oikawa shook the doctor’s hand, and told himself he’d think about it later.


End file.
